


Lost Boys

by WindWhisper (GalacticMagicStudios)



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Backstory, Brothers, Family, Martial Arts, New York City, Running Away
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 16:14:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15867174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalacticMagicStudios/pseuds/WindWhisper
Summary: 10-year-old orphans, Leonardo, Raphael, Donatello, and Michelangelo have always been together, like brothers. When they discover that they will be separated if they remain at the group home, they embark on an adventure that will change their lives forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Reimaged TMNT as humans, before they became ninjas. They aren't even teenagers. This can't even be called Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. It's Pre-Teen Regular Human Boys.
> 
> If you enjoyed this work, please leave a comment to let me know what you particularly liked! And if you see anything wrong, please let me know! I'm always on the lookout for ways to improve!

“Hey, Raph, race you!” Mikey exclaimed.

“I am not letting you win this time!”

I stepped to the edge of the sidewalk to let my brothers dash past. They ran until reaching a gate to a yard five houses from where they began. Mikey arrived first, opened the gate and was about to win. Then Raph caught up and shoved him, causing the smaller boy to fall backward. He landed on his butt, unhurt, but upset. 

“Hey! That was mean!” Mikey said. 

Already halfway up the walk, Raph stopped and turned around. “I barely touched you!” He said. 

As usual, the daily competition had evolved into an argument. I sprinted the last steps and reached down to help Mikey up. While leaning down to do so, someone bumped into me from behind. 

“Oof. Donnie, watch where you’re going.” 

My brother, brown hair sticking up behind the book he was holding, said, “Sorry.” without bothering to look up. 

“Raph, you pushed me on purpose!” Mikey accused. 

“I...it’s not my fault! You were in the way and I couldn’t stop that fast!” 

“You jus’ didn’t wanna lose!”

“Hey, boys. Please don’t tell me we’re starting another afternoon this way.” 

The door to the townhouse the yard belonged to had opened, and Mrs. Tracey had stepped out onto the porch. 

“Raph pushed me!” said Mikey.

Mrs. Tracey shook her head, causing her dark red ponytail to tremble. “Alright, you three, Leo, Donnie, Mikey, head on inside. Raphael and I will be in in a moment.”

The house’s interior was cool and smelled of chocolate. Mikey immediately dropped his backpack and dashed down the hall to the kitchen at the back of the house. Still entirely absorbed in his book, Donnie sat down on the carpeted stairs to the left of the entryway. Stopping only to open the glass door which separated the living room from the hall, I followed my youngest brother to the kitchen. 

Warm yellow light leaked through three small windows onto a cluttered counter. Other than the comfortable atmosphere of the room, the reason it was a favourite part of the house was arranged on the square table. Fresh cookies, which could be counted on to be there nearly every day after getting home from school. Mikey was already devouring one and reaching for a second. 

I lifted a stack of heavy books off a chair and took their place. Loose papers, covered in notes and crayon drawings, eliminated the need for a tablecloth. I leaned across these to grab a cookie and then settled back to wait for the familiar creak of the front door. When it opened a few seconds later, the sound was followed by Mrs. Tracey’s yell of, “Who’s backpack’s on the floor?” Then, in a quieter tone, “Come on boys. Donnie, you can read just as well in the kitchen.”

“Oops.” Mikey slid off his chair and ran to retrieve his backpack. He was fast enough to get back just behind everyone else. “These cookies are awesome!” He said, skidding past the table to grab his third. 

Mrs. Tracey laughed. “They should be. You helped me make the dough last night, remember?” 

“Oh, right! Hey, can we go check if any stray cats found the food we put out?” 

“Why not? Unless any of you want to come, we’ll be right back.” 

Mikey’s curly blond hair bounced as he scampered to the back screen door and ran through, leaving it swinging. More methodically, Mrs. Tracey followed. 

The evening passed lazily. When Mr. Kevin got home, we ate supper, then all ventured into the living room where our foster parents helped us with homework. Not unexpectedly, Donnie was done first and Mikey was still struggling by the time the rest of us had moved on to other activities. It was a good thing Mrs. Tracey was a second-grade teacher - she seemed to have eternal patience for helping him. While the setting sun darkened the room, it slowly emptied, as Mr. Kevin and Donnie went out to the backyard garage, where they restored vehicles for fun. Raph wandered downstairs to where Mrs. Tracey still kept the old instruments from when she was a teen. A few minutes later, we could hear the noisy bang of drums through the floor. I stayed in the living room and dragged a heavy cardboard box off the bottom shelf of a bookcase. It was full of comics, which Mr. Kevin had been collecting since he was my age, and any of us were allowed to read them whenever we wanted. 

The night followed the same course as most nights of the last four years. Ever since we’d moved in with the Earls. It was the best foster home we’d ever had. And it was about to change. 

One day, Mr. Kevin came home and wearily asked Mrs. Tracey if they could talk, upstairs in their room. They didn’t know that we could hear everything they said through the living room vents. It was something I’d discovered by accident a couple years before, and even though I tried not to use it too much, on this day I had a feeling I’d want to hear what they said. 

Raph was already standing on the couch, as close to the vent as he could be. It was almost like a hobby for him. Somehow, Donnie and Mikey found out, too, and all four of us were crowding together, yelling in whispers as we each struggled to hear. Through the muted commotion, we heard enough, and it was less of a surprise when the Earl’s told us about it a week later. Mr. Kevin had been offered a job out of state. What was surprising was that they had accepted the offer, especially because Mrs. Tracey cried while her husband explained everything. 

It was two months until the end of the school year, and they stayed until then. Summer had begun, but where normally we would have been planning trips to the beach or the zoo, now we were packing for a move to the group home in Manhattan. 

There was more crying the day the group home people came to pick us up. We all cried, even Raph, though he tried even harder than I did to hide it. 

At the last minute, Mr. Kevin pulled me aside and thrust a bundle of comics into my arms. “I know you love my collection, so hopefully you can start your own with these.” His last words to all of us were, “You boys are going to do great things someday.” and that was it. The only parents we could really remember stood in front of their house and waved until the car we were in turned a corner, and they disappeared from view.


	2. Chapter 2

Seven other boys and six girls already lived at the home when we arrived. Because it was summer break, we were free to do almost anything we wanted between bed and mealtimes, which helped us, or me, anyway, settle in as the days went by. The staff were friendly enough. One of them, a young woman named Christy, would take whoever wanted to go to a nearby park, every day. That’s where Raph and I were when Raph got into an argument with another boy and punched him. When we got back, we found out that Donnie had gotten in trouble for trying to fix a computer and taking it apart without permission. The group home people had different policies for punishment then our foster parents. My brothers had to help clean up the supper dishes. Since Mikey was busy playing foosball with some friends he’d made, I had the room to myself. 

It had started to rain, wet drops of water pattering on the window. Accompanying clouds blocked whatever natural light there might have been. When I reached up and clicked the light switch, the single strip light in the room flickered feebly, then went out. Subsequent clicks had no effect. 

Wondering why everything always went wrong all at once, I set out to find help. No one was around the boy’s dorms. I took the narrow stairs at the back of the building into the downstairs hallway. Voices came from the dining room on the left. I stopped at the door and saw two staff members engaged in conversation over coffee mugs. Not wanting to interrupt, I quietly walked into the tiled room, at sat down at one of the scratched plastic tables to wait. Neither of the young women seemed to notice. Or they were choosing to ignore me. It was Christy who eventually appeared and saw me. Having just finished some chore in the adjoining kitchen, she came, laughing at something someone said from behind the partitioning wall and strode out into the dining room. 

“Hey, Leo!” She greeted me with a smile. “What’s up?”

“Hi. The light burnt out in my room.” 

“You need help then, don’t ya?” Never fear - I’ve changed a lightbulb or two in my time.”

“It’s not really a lightbulb…”

“One of those strip lamps, right. No stranger to those, either. Come on, kiddo, let’s go get you some light!” 

I struggled to keep up with Christy’s long strides and wished I was taller. Floorboards creaked as Christy and I retraced my steps, stopping back at the top of the stairs. Christy pulled a key from her pocket and unlocked a padlock on a dull wooden door. It swung outwards and revealed a black void, into which she stepped. There was a click and a single exposed light bulb, pull-string dangling from it, illuminated a cluttered walk-in closet. There were shelves of corroding paint canisters, stained bottles of cleaning supplies, boxes of light bulbs, dust and cobwebs. Brooms, mops and a small, folding metal step ladder leaned against the shelves and what little wall was exposed. 

“Here, can you handle this?” Christy extricated the ladder from a net of broom-handles and passed it to me. Slightly shorter than I was, and many times lighter, I had no trouble holding it. Next, Christy selected a narrow box nearly as long as her arm. “Step back.” 

I sidestepped into the hall. 

“Thanks.” The door creaked as she pushed it closed but didn’t bother to lock it. “Alright, lead me to the place where the evil storm-wizard Thunderus has banished all light! We must save the kingdom before it’s too late!” She thrust the box forward in a dramatic lunge. 

I couldn’t help laughing; she sounded ridiculous but had succeeded in cheering me up. 

The room was even darker than before, almost the black of night. 

“Just set that against the wall.” Christy instructed. “Hmm. This shouldn’t be hard. I’ll need to get you to hold this for me, though.” She produced a touchscreen phone from the back pocket of her jeans and tapped it until a bright white light turned on. She passed it to me, then opened the box and let a long white tube slide into her hand. “Be careful with this.” 

With both of her hands free and both of mine occupied, she set up the ladder under the light and climbed it’s three steps. I lifted the phone to let the flashlight show her what she was doing. In no time, the old tube was out and replaced with the new.

The old tube was boxed, ladder folded and light successfully switched on when she said, “Thanks for your help, kiddo. Up high!” We high-fived. 

“You’re welcome.” I grabbed a comic and prepared the sit down on my lower bunk bed. 

“What’re you reading?” Christy asked while gathering the ladder and box. 

“A comic. I started earlier today.” 

“Is it about superheroes?”

“I don’t know yet. Probably.”

“Sweet. I was never much into comics, but I loved superhero cartoons when I was your age. And movies. They might be the reason I went into theatre. Anyways, enjoy your light. My shift’s done, so I’ll see you tomorrow, kiddo.”


	3. Chapter 3

The next days passed without incident. It was boring, and I started to hate the group home. The younger kids were loud, the single older one was rude and even though Christy and most of the other staff and volunteers were nice, it wasn’t anything like living with the Earls. There were no cookies to help make, no rainy evenings with Mrs. Tracey playing her guitar, no fun day trips around the city. No one but ourselves to tuck us in and say goodnight. There were also rules. The Earls had set rules, but not as many as the home did. Lights had to be out at nine pm. If you overslept and missed breakfast, you had to wait until lunchtime to eat. Don’t leave the building without a staff member. Don’t bounce on the couches in the rec room. Don’t leave food on the fire escape - as Mikey did once to attract stray cats. Don’t yell, don’t go into the kitchen unless you’re helping with dishes, don’t jump or the people working downstairs would complain. The list of “don’t’s” went on and on. Eventually, I wasn’t sure what I could “do” without getting into trouble. I couldn’t wait to move into a new foster home. At the end of the month, an opportunity came up, and it was not what we expected. 

Since Raph, Donnie, Mikey and I had been in the same homes our entire lives, I guess we assumed it would stay that way. What I didn’t know is, there are very few foster parents who are willing to take four pre-teen boys at once. 

It was a usual day. We’d all gone out to that park with Christy and had skipped pebbles in the pond for nearly an hour in the bright sunshine. It felt like no time had passed when we had to go back to the old brick building where nothing ever seemed to change. We walked into the alley beside it. Looking up, I located our window, just about in the center of the third floor, remembering how the rusty fire escape below it creaked in the night as if someone was trying to climb either up or down it. As far as I knew, no one ever actually used it, which is exactly what I told Mikey when he worried that a monster was creeping up to our room. 

“It’s so old, a monster would probably crash right through it.” I told him. “No way it can get to us.” 

Back in the present, Christy had the door opened to the back stairs. “Okay, kiddos, in you go.” Five other children shuffled up the steps. Then, another door opened into the stairwell. A middle-height man with thinning brown hair, wearing a work suit, leaned out. 

“Hello, Mrs. Reeds. I was just coming to find you.”

“Of course, Mr. Thorpe. What do you need?” Christy responded in a formal tone. 

“Actually, I…” He dropped off and glanced at us. “I need to speak with two of your boys.” He gave us a second look. “Leonardo and Donatello, actually.” 

“Okay. Well then, you two heard that. Come on, Mikey, Raph, let’s go find something else to do!” 

Now she seemed too enthusiastic as if trying to distract us. We knew exactly what was happening. Mr. Thorpe came upstairs regularly, sometimes just to chat with us kids or one of the staff, but more often to invite one or two kids to talk somewhere private. Usually, within a day or two, those kids would go to a new foster home. It was generally considered a good thing if Mr. Thorpe wanted to talk to you. Not today. 

Not even Mikey missed the meaning. He and Raph exchanged horrified looks with Donnie and me before Christy ushered them upstairs. 

The ground floor, which none of us had ever been in until Mr. Thorpe stepped aside and let me and Donnie inside, was brightly light. There were clean grey carpets and a few black and white photographs on the white walls, most showing kids or babies holding hands with grinning adults. It was also quiet, with closed doors of frosted glass blocking the noise from rooms along the hall. I felt out of place, with my short, skinny build, bright blue hand-me-down t-shirt, and messy black hair. From his awkward shuffling movements, I guessed that Donnie did, too. 

Almost at the end of the hallway, where a big grey desk separated a small sitting area from where we were, Mr. Thorpe turned us into a small, square office. The large, black desk was covered in binders, loose paper, scattered pens, paper clips and sticky notes around a computer in one corner. The pictures on his walls were the same as in the hallway. Only one item was personal - a framed photo of Mr. Thorpe, a woman and two teenagers standing on a beach somewhere. 

“Alright boys, go ahead and have a seat. Or stand if you prefer, I don’t mind.” 

I lowered myself into one of the stiff-backed chairs before his desk. Donnie took the other. Mr. Thorpe settled into his own behind the desk. Smiling kindly, he leaned forward, resting his arms on the black surface. 

“I’m sure you have some idea what this is about.” 

“You found a new home for us. It says ‘Foster Coordinator’ on the door.” Donnie said, his voice echoed in the small, yet empty space. 

“Yes, exactly.” Mr. Thorpe smiled wider. “A family not too far from here, with one boy your age. Ready for you to move in as soon as possible.” 

“What about Raph and Mikey?” I asked. 

Mr. Thorpe’s smile lessened. “There are people who will take them, too. Don’t worry.”

“But we...we’ve been in the same homes our whole lives-”

“I know, I know. Believe me, I don’t like splitting up people like this. But it would take many more weeks, months, even, to find a home to take all four of you.” 

“Then, we’ll wait.” Donnie said. 

Mr. Thorpe sighed. “It’s our policy to keep children out of the group home and with foster families, as much as possible. I’m sure both of you will be happy-”

“No.” Both of us said at once. 

Smile entirely gone, Mr. Thorpe sighed. “I don’t like to argue, but I’m afraid it’s non-negotiable. The family has already arranged to meet you tomorrow. At least give them a chance.


	4. Chapter 4

It was long after lights out, but no one was asleep in boys dorm Number Two. Donnie and I had told Raph and Mikey everything and now we were busy thinking of ways to avoid tomorrow. The only plans we really had were “fake sick” and “hide somewhere”. 

“I give up.” Announced Mikey, flopping, spread-eagled, onto his top bunk. 

“I’m not. We gotta think of something.” Raph, in the bed across from mine, looked furious. At least what I could see of him in the dim light from the window. “Leo, you always have good ideas.” In the pressure of the moment, he’d forgotten his usual non-complementary ego. “Get your stupid mind thinking.” Well, maybe not entirely. 

Frustrated and sleepy as I was, nothing came to mind. In the wordless silence, I flipped thoughtlessly through the comic I was reading. In it, a thirteen-year-old boy named Fabian found out he was descended from a family of “fae” with special authority over plants. He’d been sent to a boarding school, which had no plants on the grounds. Unable to handle it, he’d run away and assumed the identity of a superhero called Vital. The superhero part was cool, but right now, I couldn’t stop thinking about the boarding school, and how trapped I felt. 

That’s how I got the idea. 

“I got it!” 

Raph stared at me expectantly, Mikey propped himself up to listen and though I couldn’t see Donnie’s physical response, I heard him say, “What?” from above me.

Faking sickness or hiding was a temporary solution and could be easily found out. Running away wasn’t, at least in my mind. Plus, we wouldn’t be around to witness the consequences. 

“We’ll leave! Down the fire escape, tonight!”

“Run away?” Mikey’s voice wavered.

Although I still couldn’t see Raph clearly, I heard the smile in his tone, “I like it.” 

“Okay. First, we need to get everything we want to take with us.” I inched my way to the edge of the bed and stood up. The floorboards still creaked no matter how carefully I stepped over to the wooden wardrobe. Inside was not only most of our clothes but also our backpacks. I took mine, a battered, grey and black one, and stepped back to let my brothers retrieve their own.

Only Donnie was still in bed, staring at the wall across from him. Suddenly, his own backpack soared past me and landed with a flop on his mattress. We looked at each other in surprise, then at the backpack, then at Raph, whose arm was still in a pitching position. “Come on, D, wake up.” He said. 

“I was thinking.” Donnie said reproachfully as he climbed down from his bed. “We should wear as much as we can, keep our backpacks lighter. And we should wait to leave. I can set the alarm for four-thirty, and we’ll be out of here before the sun’s up, while still getting some sleep.”

The digital red numbers on our single alarm clock read 12:02. I wouldn’t be much sleep, but I understood why my brother thought it was a good idea. The other’s must’ve, too, because we all agreed. After putting on as many layers of clothes as I could, including a hoodie, jacket, and sneakers, I went back to bed and tried to sleep. For a long time, I couldn’t. There was too much to think about, like how exciting it would be on our own. No rules. Eventually, though, sleep managed to claim me. 

When the alarm went off in a series of loud beeps, I was in charge of shutting it off, since I was closest. By the time I’d depressed the only necessary button, Mikey was out of bed, backpack on, and waiting by the window. The rest of us moved slowly. I hadn’t been able to fall asleep earlier, but now it seemed to be all my body wanted. My arms and legs felt heavy and clumsy as I got my backpack full of comics and stood up. Even though I was excited, I couldn’t stop a nervous feeling from settling in. Once we were gone, we were entirely on our own, which suddenly seemed terrifying, not terrific. If we were found out, we would be in big, big trouble. I reminded myself that the alternative was even worse. At least this way, we’d be together. 

The window was locked at night, but Donnie found a paper clip at the bottom of his backpack and quickly picked it - one of the skills Mr. Kevin probably shouldn’t have taught him, but luckily had. One by one, we stepped through the narrow opening onto the fire escape. Only Mikey needed any persuading. 

“You said that thing would collapse.” 

“I only told you that to make you less scared. C’mon.” 

“Could there have been a boggle-eyed brainwasher on it?” He whispered in horror. 

“Oh, monsters aren’t real, Mikey!” Raph raised his voice angrily and would have continued if I hadn’t slapped my hand over his mouth. He glared, then turned away and stalked down the small steps behind us. Choosing to ignore him, I returned to the more pressing issue. “C’mon, Mikey. Hurry.” 

Mikey moaned, then slowly stepped out. Donnie carefully lowered the window before we all followed Raph. On the lower level of the escape, he was kicking at a ladder that should have slid down to the alley below. It wouldn’t budge, even when the rest of us joined in. 

“It must’ve corroded right into the chutes.” Donnie said, giving the ladder an angry kick as he did so. “Ow!” 

“We’ll just have to jump.” I decided. 

I went first, lowering myself through the gap that the ladder should have slid through. Once I was hanging down as far as possible, I released my grip and landed on asphalt. “All good!”

Raph came down next, followed by Mikey, and finally Donnie, a little reluctantly. 

“Now what?” Asked Raph. 

“Uh.” I hadn’t thought that far yet, caught up as I was in the brilliance of escape. “We should, um…” I looked up at the window that we’d crawled through, now appearing black and unfriendly. “Let’s get as far away from here as possible.” 

The streetlights and dim signs of shops cast white light over the street, banishing the eerie blackness of the alley as we left it behind. The light did nothing to change the chilly black air. High above hung the moon and few stars able to penetrate the smoky city atmosphere.

I was warm under my jacket and jeans but decided to pull my sweater hood up, anyways. As we walked down the still, quiet street, I began forming a real plan. First of all, we had to get as far away from the group home as possible. Before it got too light, we would need a place to hide. An abandoned shop or something.

Further down the street, a dark clump of people laughed uproariously, breaking the silence. What sorts of people were out this late, just standing on the street? As we got closer, I could see the tattoos curling around several of the men’s bare biceps. All of the men were wearing leather vests, while the only two women in the crowd were heavily covered in makeup. Not a single person smiled when we crept past, though all of them, eight or so, turned to look at us. One of them shouted, “Hey, kid, where you mama?”

Mikey whimpered and ran up to hide beside me. Even though the shouting man had made me nervous, too, I did my best not to show it. Head up, looking ahead, just ignoring them. One of the men had laughed cruelly at Mikey’s open display of fear, and the rough noise, seemingly amplified in the quiet night air, was making it harder to pretend they weren’t there. 

“Hey, kid, I ask you a question!” The first man yelled again, aggressively. He stepped forward. Separated from his comrades, his huge frame was obvious, unignorable, and I couldn’t help feeling terrified. When he lunged forward, my legs seemed to move on their own, carrying me forward with Mikey in tow. 

Jeers and laughter came from behind. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Raph and Donnie sprinting after us. An alleyway sprang up at our right. I swerved in and followed it as it narrowed between two apartment complexes. In the cold shadows, we finally stopped. For about a minute, the only sound was fast, heavy breathing. When we could talk, Donnie moaned, “This was a bad idea.” No one argued his point. 

“Well, we can’t just go back now.” I said. Though, being separated into foster homes did seem rather better than being threatened by New York City gang members. Or was it? There hadn’t been any chase. If I’d continued to act indifferent, things would have been okay. Maybe. Next time, I’d be braver. 

“I’m tired.” Mikey stifled a yawn. 

“So am I.” Donnie said. 

“Where do you expect to sleep, huh?” Raph growled. “We should just keep moving.” 

“You’re right.” I agreed. “But only until we find-” I stopped talking to yawn. “-somewhere we can sleep.” 

“Like?” Raph asked skeptically. 

“I don’t know. An abandoned apartment or something. We’ll know it when we see it.” 

“Oh.” 

The only thing we found that night was a tattered mattress someone had left beside a dumpster. At least it was better than cold concrete. With our backpacks for pillows, we all curled up across the width of the mattress and quickly fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Trying to sleep outdoors in the big city was no easy task. There were sirens, car horns, revving motorcycles, barking dogs, cooing pigeons, and chattering pedestrians. It wasn’t completely light out before we were forced, by all the noise, to wake up. I pushed back my jacket sleeve to look at my watch and saw that we’d gotten barely an hour’s rest. And now there was no way we’d be going back to sleep before the next night. 

“I’m hungry.” Mikey said before we’d even stood up. 

“Right. What’re we supposed to do for food, Leo?” Donnie, Mikey, and Raph all looked at me expectantly. 

“Uh…” Food costs money, which we had little of, left over from the last weekly allowance given at the home. Not enough for more than one meal. “We’ll go buy something. How much money do you all have?”

The total was less than twelve dollars. 

“We’re going to use that up really quickly.” 

“Then what?” Asked Donnie. 

“Well, we can...find jobs.”

“Okay...you know, the system is probably going to put our pictures in the news. If anyone recognizes us…”

“So we’ll be careful.” 

There was a convenience store just around the corner from the alley where we’d slept. The inside smelled like old coffee and cheap air freshener, and the single employee looked like he might fall asleep on the cash register. We found and bought two plastic-wrapped bagels as quickly as possible, spending most of our money on them, and left. It was still a little early for most people to be out and we were able to walk down the street, unafraid of being noticed. 

With just half of a chewy, flavourless bagel each, we were done eating quickly. 

“I’m still hungry.” 

“Well, if you want more, you’ll have to earn it.” 

“Aww, I don’t want a job yet. Will I have to wear a suit?”

“Like anyone’d give you an office job, Mikey.” 

Leaving Raph and Mikey to bicker behind us, Donnie caught up to me. “Okay, seriously, you must have a better plan.” 

“Not really.” I said distractedly. While the others had been talking, I’d decided to look in as many store windows as I could for “NOW HIRING” signs. There was no luck so far. 

Donnie mumbled something about wishing we were back with the Earls. Deciding to block him and the melancholy subject out, I walked ahead. There were some stores on the other side of the street with signs out front. Maybe…

“Leo, watch-”

Too late, I walked right into a man standing just in front of me. Horrified, I stumbled backward and exclaimed, “Sorry!”

Looking up, I met the surprised eyes of a tall man with black hair. “No matter.” He said, smiling kindly. “I should have been more aware, as I often tell my students to be.”

The question slipped out before I could stop it, “Students?”

“Yes.” The man spoke with an accent, taking care to pronounce every word separately. “This is my dojo.” He indicated the two-floor apartment on his right. “Where I am from, it is a place of learning.” 

“Like a school?” Mikey had caught up. 

“In a way. Here, I teach virtues such as honor, respect, and patience, through the ancient art of karate.” 

I recognized the word but had no idea what it meant. Because he’d used the word “art”, all I could picture was someone painting “KARATE” on a canvas. 

My face must have shown my confusion because the man laughed gently and said, “Would you like to see?” He stepped back and opened the dojo door. 

“Sure.” I agreed. While I might have been more cautious of strangers after our last encounter, this man seemed nothing like the gang members. He held the door open for us to step inside. The dojo’s dim interior looked nothing like a school. One the right was a small office with a desk in the corner, covering in papers, a computer, and a small filing cabinet. On the left, under the big picture window, assorted chairs and a stunted tree decorated the narrow waiting area. The short hallway between the two areas was bordered by two more doors, one labeled for “MEN” and the other “WOMEN.” The big room at the end of the hall was darkened. Without consciously thinking about it, I walked towards this area. 

The man caught up with me and turned on a light, illuminating a large space covered with worn, but intricately patterned rugs. On the walls, swords and other unfamiliar weapons were supported in wooden holders. A corner at the back was covered in what looked like a tapestry, printed with intricate pictures showing odd creatures fighting humans in elaborate costumes. The decorations didn’t really make sense, but I suddenly felt at home in the space. 

“In a way, this is my classroom.” The owner walked up and joined me where I stood in the center of the room. “If you would like, I can demonstrate what I teach.” 

“Okay!” I said eagerly. 

The man took a few steps towards one end of the room, loudly said, “Hai”, and went on the preform what almost looked like a complicated dance, punching, kicking and blocking an invisible foe. 

“Wow.” I said quietly when he was finished. 

“That was so cool!” Mikey exclaimed from behind me, shattering the otherwise quiet of the room. 

I blinked, feeling like I’d just woken up from a dream, and looked behind myself. During the demonstration, I hadn’t noticed my brother’s approach. 

“Hey,” Raph came up and jabbed me with his elbow to make sure I noticed. “Maybe this guy has jobs for us.” 

“Good idea.” I whispered back. “Um, sir, do you have any jobs that you need done?”

He looked surprised. “Are you hoping to make some money?”

“Yes, uh…”

“I think I can find something.” He answered before I could think of a good reason without revealing who we really were. “Come.”

In the corner by the carpeted wall, he surprised me by pushing it back, causing the picture to fold upon itself. Beyond, there was a staircase leading up and a hallway around it, with two doors on the right. The first of these opened to a closet, not unlike the one Christy had shown me. “Would you be able to do some cleaning for me?”


	6. Chapter 6

About an hour later, we were done sweeping, vacuuming, washing windows, and dusting. 

“Thank you.” The man said, giving us each a $5 bill. “You’ve done a very good job.” 

“You’re welcome, sir.” I said. “Uh, do you think you might need the same things done tomorrow?”

“Yes. As long as you have the time and your parents don’t mind. And, you may call me Master Splinter.” 

“I’m Leonardo.”

“Donatello.”

“Raphael.”

“My name’s Michelangelo!” 

“Your parents must be artists.”

“Yeah. We live on the next street over.” I offered. It wasn’t a complete lie - the group home really was just one street over, and many, many, blocks down. 

“Hmm. Then, I will expect you tomorrow.” 

“We’ll be here.” 

As soon as we’d left the dojo behind, Mikey said, “I’m hungry again.” 

“Well, let's go buy something, then.” Donnie said. “I don’t think anyone’ll recognize us yet.”

We found a cafe a few blocks over, and were able to buy four sandwiches from it. After we were finished eating, we moved on. 

“What now?” Raph asked. It wasn’t even noon yet, and I was running out of ideas for what to do. All of a sudden, Donnie exclaimed, “Hide!” and shoved all of us into a nearby alley. 

“What was that for?” Raph yelled. 

“Shut up!” said Donnie. “Look.” He pointed back towards the street, where a police car was slowly driving be, making its way through traffic. 

“So?” Raph grumbled.

“They’re probably looking for us.”

“But we haven’t done anything!” Whispered Mikey. 

“No, not...ugh, Mikey, the home people would’ve noticed our absence by now and told the police, even if no one else knows yet.” Donnie explained. 

“We should find somewhere to hide, then.” I decided. 

Exactly the sort of place we were looking for - an abandoned garage was found not far away. It may once have been a mechanic’s shop, but now lay empty except for a rusty car with no tires or engine, and a few sealed cardboard boxes, grey and sagging, as if all the time they’d lain forgotten was pressing down on them. 

No one wanted to sleep on the cold cement floors, which prompted Raph and me to go look for the mattress we’d slept on. When it wasn’t where we’d thought it’d been, we checked the surrounding alleys, weaving between pedestrians and avoiding police officers, but didn’t find the mattress. My grand escape plan was looking less and less brilliant as the day wore on. Perhaps we should’ve just gone along with faking sickness. 

Back at the garage, we slipped in through the side door whose lock had been picked by Donnie and his paper clip. Inside, we found that our brother’s had been busy. All of the cardboard boxes had been unpacked. Inside, among a bunch of mouse droppings, were a bunch of old tools, some car parts and a chewed up poster of vintage sports cars. Donnie, crouched over a battered radio which he was trying to make operable, informed us that he’d found the breaker box. Apparently, whoever owned this place was still paying the energy bills, because the lights had come on. Which meant we had to be careful, as the owner could return at any time. 

It was disappointing to have no mattress, but after some thinking, I realized that the car might have cushioned seats. Raph wanted to smash the windows to get into it, but I beat him to the colourless vehicle and checked a door. It was unlocked. Even though the seats were torn in places and losing their stuffing, they were soft enough. It was better than nothing. 

Raph still wanted to shatter the windows. I reasoned that if the owner came back, we didn’t need another reason for him to be angry at us. After a brief argument, my point won. 

The last thing we needed, as we quickly realized, was a bathroom. Once again, we were lucky to find one in the garage - which didn’t have any water. Still, it was better than nothing.


	7. Pizza Party

During the evening, we decided that it was too boring to just stay in the garage all the time. It was also dangerous, and we were careful to keep all our stuff with us so that no one would know we’d even been there. The next morning, I asked Master Splinter if he could think of more jobs for us to do.

“Are your parents okay with you four being here?”

“Yeah, they are. We told them about it last night, right guys?”

“Then, I’m sure I can find something for such eager workers.”

After repeating our chores from the day before, Master Splinter removed one of the swords from the wall. He called it a katana and showed us how to clean it. We ended up cleaning many of his training and display weapons. Fifteen minutes in, Donnie, who had stayed up past midnight working on the radio, fell asleep. Shortly after, Mikey and Raph got bored and went to wander around the dojo. I stayed, concentrating on a long, curved katana, doing my best to mimic Master Splinter’s cleaning demonstration. 

“You are very disciplined for someone your age. Not even many adults would work as hard as you.” Master Splinter himself showed up so suddenly, I jumped. After taking a moment to recollect myself, I responded, “Is that one of the, uh, vir...virta…”

“The virtues I teach? Yes. Discipline is very important if you wish to do anything well.”

“Oh.”

“Are you saving money for something in particular.” 

Would it seem strange if I said no? I couldn’t just tell him that we needed it for food - it would give away our deception. “Uh, no.” 

“Hmm.” There was a long silence. I could feel Master Splinter watching me. Was he mad? Did he know I was lying? I ceased running a cloth along the katana’s blade and looked up to meet his gaze. There wasn’t any anger, only thoughtfulness. 

“You handle that katana as if you’ve used one before.” Master Splinter finally said. 

“I...I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.”

“Would you like me to show you a simple kata?”

“Wow, really?” 

For the next hour, Master Splinter showed me how to wield the katana, what positions to stand in, and a few different kicks or blocks that work especially well when used in tandem with the graceful blade. During that time, Mikey and Raph came back from the front area to watch, and Donnie joined them when he was woken up by all the noise. They all tried it themselves, and when none of them got it, Master Splinter found different weapons and fighting styles for each of them. Raph’s favourite were a pair of short, three-pronged blades, called “sai”. Mikey quickly learned to manage a pair of nunchucks, while Donnie picked up on the complicated spinning motion of a long wooden staff called a bo. 

When we were finished with the impromptu training session, I assumed we would need to clean again. The room smelled like sweat and all the weapons should have been wiped down. Even though it was extra work, I was happy to do it. The lesson had left me excited - tired, but happier than I’d felt since leaving Queens. Before any work could be done, though, Master Splinter asked, “Are your parents expecting you home?”

“No.” I said quickly. “They work late.”

“They’re painting a huge painting!” Mikey spread his arms wide to indicate the size. 

“In a museum.” Added Donnie. 

“On Staten Island.” Finished Raph. 

Master Splinter arched one eyebrow, and for a moment, I thought he’d finally caught our bluff. Then, all he said was, “Why don’t you call them? I’ll order pizza and you can stay as long as you’d like.” 

His generosity was hard for me to believe. Giving us jobs, karate lessons and now pizza!

“Use the office phone. I will be upstairs.” He retreated. 

We all stayed motionless. After all, there was no one to call. When Master Splinter came back downstairs a few minutes later, we were still standing in more or less the same spots. “Have you called your parents already?”

“Yeah.” I told him. “They said to thank you for...everything.”

Master Splinter chuckled. “Tell them, ‘You’re welcome’ when you see them. Now, come upstairs.”

The tidy upper floor what mostly one big room. There were three doors on the front wall and a short hall from the stairs to the kitchen. While the dojo was roughly cubical, the upstairs was longer than it was wide. There must have been a back room or garage behind the dojo, which would account for the extra space above. 

“Where do these go?” Mikey pointed to the doors. 

“The middle one is a bathroom, which you may use if you need to. Do not open the other doors. You may go anywhere else in the apartment.”

There wasn’t much furniture, which made the huge space feel larger. A table and chairs in the kitchen, a few shelves, one couch, and a coffee table. Mikey ran to a window overlooking the street which ran beside the building and pressed his face against it. “Wow, you can see so much from up here!” 

“I just see the tops of people’s heads.” Raph grumbled. At a bookshelf by the couch, Donnie knelt down to examine the few books. 

“Hey, there’s the pizza guy!” Said Mikey. “Master Splinter, can I go with you to get it?”

“Of course, Michelangelo.” 

“Yes!” Mikey dashed across the room. Every one of his footsteps could be heard pounding on the stairs, far ahead of Master Splinter. 

Having lingered in the kitchen until then, I finally strayed and found myself facing another bookcase. There were a few heavy volumes on the bottom shelf, but the other four held decorations - miniature figurines, a wooden platform from which a thin stick released a sweet scent, and a framed photo. Taken in black and white, the faces of three people stood out before a dark background. The man was unmistakably Master Splinter, but the woman and baby were unfamiliar. 

I didn’t realize that Mikey and Master Splinter had returned until the latter spoke from just behind me. “That was my family, many years ago, when I still lived in Japan.”

“Are they here, too?” I asked, looking around, unaware of the meaning of the past tense. 

“No.” Master Splinter’s voice was low and sad. “They died, a long time ago. Miwa, had she survived, would have been about your age.” 

“Oh.” I couldn’t help using the same tone, feeling the same sadness as I thought of the parents I’d never known, would likely never know. 

The pizza helped to distract my thoughts before I let something slip. While we all sat around the little table, Mikey announced that pizza was his favourite food, just like ice cream, cookies and a long list of other junk food. When he got to the end of that, he began reciting all of his favourite pizza toppings, until Raph stopped him with a kick under the table.

After that, Master Splinter entertained us with stories about his childhood, in a Japanese village. His father had been a shogun, which sounded like a mix of a ruler and a military general. By the time the pizza and the stories were finished, some of Master Splinter’s students were waiting downstairs. We were paid the same as the last day and pushed past a group of other kids our age until reaching the door. A few of their parents caught sight of us and at least one looked curious, but I thought we’d gotten out without being recognized.


	8. Chapter 8

Another night in the garage. This time, we had music coming from Donnie’s newly fixed radio, which gave us more than my comics to pass the time. Which there was a lot less of since most of the day had been spent as Master Splinter’s. 

Another uncomfortable sleep in the old car, but more restful as we were all much more tired from the day. In the morning, breakfast came from the same cafe, but we ate on the street. At this point, staying in one place too long would almost guarantee we'd be recognized. We finished up just as we reached the dojo. 

Master Splinter seemed distracted. He didn’t say much and let us get the cleaning supplies on our own this time. I wondered what could’ve happened, but Master Splinter vanished upstairs before I could talk to him. 

By this time, everything was familiar to the point where we didn’t need Master Splinter’s instruction to retrieve the vacuum, broom, dusters, and clothes from the closet. While Mikey and Donnie walked off to the front of the building, twirling clothes and a broom, and chatting about yesterday’s training session, I plugged the vacuum in. 

Before it could be turned on, Master Splinter reappeared. 

“Boys. Come. I want to tell you a story.” 

Confused, I let go of the vacuum and went to sit on the carpet in front of Master Splinter, who was now kneeling on the floor. My brothers hurried to join, all looking equally confused. 

With a sigh, Master Splinter closed his eyes for what felt like a long time. 

“Uh, Master Splinter, are you okay?” I asked nervously. 

He opened his eyes. “Yes, Leonardo.

“This story is about me when I was your age. My brother and I had a disagreement, which turned into a fight, which I lost. Ashamed for starting the fight, and more ashamed that my brother had defeated me, I ran away, rather than face my troubles. After a time, I wanted to go back, but I was worried that my father would be furious. I was surprised when my father found me himself. He was not mad, only relieved that I was safe. 

“I believe there are some people who would be very relieved to find you.”

He knew. How? I was unable to talk. Apparently, so was everyone else, except for Mikey, who said, “Don’t make us go back, Master Splinter!” 

“Are you better off on your own?” He asked. 

My first thought was yes. Then, I thought of all the bad things that had happened to us - being frightened by the gang members, having to sleep in an abandoned car, having barely enough money for food, dodging police cars every time we went outside. There were good things, too, like being able to make money, finding the garage, the pizza. Which had been the only full meal we’d had since we left the home…

“But we can’t go back, Master Splinter! They’ll send us to different homes. We might not see each other, ever again!” Mikey’s voice was becoming a wail. 

Master Splinter must not have understood what he meant. “Problems like this have a way of finding solutions on their own.”

There was no way to change his mind, but I still wanted to know, “How did you find out?” I asked. 

“I knew you boys were not who you said you were from the beginning.” Master Splinter looked directly at me. “From the moment you bumped into me on the sidewalk. It wasn’t until today, though, that I discovered that you’d run away from a group home.”

Shocked silence. 

The bell over the dojo’s door tinkled. A voice called, “Hello? Is there a Yoshi Hamato here?” A man’s voice. A familiar man’s voice. Mr. Thorpe’s voice. 

Before I or my brothers had a chance to run, hide, protest, do anything, Master Splinter had said, “Yes, that’s me.” And Mr. Thorpe, Christy, and a policeman had entered the room. They all started speaking at once, the men to Master Splinter, and Christy to us. I couldn’t respond to her exclamations of how glad she was we were safe, how worried everyone had been. None of us responded. 

There was no way to avoid being ushered into waiting taxis. Master Splinter followed us outside. I refused to talk to him. In fact, the only one of us who made any sound was Mikey, who started crying. He, Donnie and Mr. Thorpe quickly got into a taxi and pulled away. 

Christy settled into the passenger seat of the cab Raph and I were sitting in. She gave us an anxious look, but said nothing other than directions for the driver to get to the group home. For one wild moment, after the cab started moving, I considered opening the door and jumping out but decided that it would just delay to inevitable. Instead, I found my voice and asked, “You’re gonna send us all the different fosters now, aren’t you?”

“Oh, kiddo!” Christy wheeled around suddenly, her voice both surprised and upset. “No, no, we won’t. Besides,” With a smile, the real Christy replaced the mature, concerned one. “It’s too much trouble to go chasing after you after every disappearing act.”


	9. Chapter 9

A week had passed at the group home - a week of being called by the Earl’s who wanted to tell us how glad they were that we were safe, and of having to talk to a therapist who asked why we’d left, what we’d done and how we felt about it. We were moved into a different bedroom, with no fire escape outside the window. It was all exhausting, more tiring than the few days we’d been fending for ourselves. 

At the beginning of week two, Mr. Thorpe invited us down to his office. All four of us. 

“We’ve found a new foster parent for all of you. He’s new, and usually, we require more time to process an application, complete security checks, training...but, given the circumstances this time…” He opened his office door. A man stood beside his desk. 

Master Splinter.


	10. Epilogue

“Race you home!” With a clatter, Mikey dropped his skateboard, jumped on and pushed off down the sidewalk. 

“You actually want to lose, don’t you?” Raph dropped his own board and took off in pursuit. 

I was eager to follow, but first, turned around and yelled, “You’re gonna be left behind, D!” 

Donnie looked up from the conversation he’d been having with his best friend, April. “I’d better go.” He told her, starting down the high school steps. 

“See you tomorrow! Thanks again for helping me with that test!” She called, beginning to head off in the other direction. 

I took off on my own board before Donnie could catch up. Weaving carefully between pedestrians, I overtook both of my younger brothers in no time. 

It’d been five years since we’d moved into the apartment above the dojo. Not long after, the adoption had been finalized. It was official. We were home.

**Author's Note:**

> If you got this far, don't forget to leave a comment!
> 
> Love it? Please let me know why!   
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